After All
by TheGladElf
Summary: Cammie's finally got it all figured out. CoC is taken down, but something's missing. Was she too late? My prediction of how Gallagher Girls is going to wrap up in book six. Major spoilers for GG4. You have been warned. One shot btw.
1. Cammie

Life is unfair.

And I'm not talking unfair in a you're having a Sean Connery Bond-A-Thon and that guy just walked off with the last copy of _Never Say Never Again _way. Because, there totally are ways to deal with that. (Especially since he won't be able to realize that you've switched it with _Pride and Prejudice_ until he gets home.)

I'm talking unfair in an everything you thought you knew has been challenged in the last two years and the one thing you can count on—the one _person_ you can count on—is gone way. Because no matter who his mother was or what secrets he was trying to keep there was one thing I knew: Zachary Goode would always be on my side.

And now he was dead.

Two years ago he'd walked into my life. Last night he'd kissed me and walked out—for good.

PROS AND CONS OF SAVING THE WORLD

PRO: The double agent run terrorist organization that has been following you and trying to kidnap you for the last two years is gone. You're finally safe.

CON: The boy who has been following and protecting you for the past two years is gone. You don't feel safe.

PRO: You got to save the world with a really cute spy boy (who also might possibly have been your boyfriend). Emphasis on _really cute_.

CON: Both you and the really cute boy got shot while saving the world.

PRO: You and aforementioned boy are regarded as heroes (along with others).

CON: He's not there to finally be recognized for who he is.

PRO: I saved the world (and my butt).

CON: I couldn't save Zach.

PRO: My dad was alive.

CON: Zach was dead.

Yeah, life is unfair. I got a piece of my past back, a piece of who I am. But I'd had to trade a piece of my future for it, a piece of who I would have been.

No, stop it. Be grateful, I told myself.

I focused on my parents. A sight I never thought to see again. Dad looks good for someone who has spent the last eight years stuffed in a Circle of Cavan prison cell. If you count emaciated, a little beaten and slightly tortured as looking good. But he was still able to walk and talk and when he'd hugged me, it felt like he'd never been gone. You'd think that after almost a decade apart, my mom and dad would be all over each other. But no, a good agent doesn't let their guard down in an unsafe location. Holding hands was enough for them, being able to see each other was enough. Every now and then, they'd look over to check on me. Or put a hand on my knee—the good one. I wanted to cry tears of joy.

They were happy. I kept my eyes on them. Even when Bex's mom packed the bullet hole in the my right shoulder a little too tight. (Not that I'm complaining, I'm quite happy having _not_ bled to death.) Even when they made me move my knee—the bad one—to make sure nothing was broken. (Nothing was.) Because if I shut my eyes I knew I would see Emily Goode's face as her son pushed me out of harm's way. As she put two bullets in his chest anyways and watched him fall into the river below. He was probably half a mile downstream being put into a CIA body bag right now. I wanted to cry.

It was a losing battle. Events were determined to make me cry one way or another, but it was a battle I could fight long enough. At least until it was safe to let my guard down.

Bex came over from where Liz was getting stitches above her eyebrow. (Just a minor injury that she inflicted on herself—after everything was over, naturally.)

"How are you holding up, Cammie," she asked, putting an arm around my shoulder. Her accent was thick and broken as she smiled. I shook my head.

"Bex…" I stopped, because I could feel my voice waiting to break and I didn't think I could hold it together if everyone knew how broken I really was. My eyes scanned the crowd for the hundredth time. People around me were getting triaged, the most severe were sent to the hospital while those of us who were more stable were waiting to be smuggled elsewhere for treatment. There were faces I didn't know. People I'd never met.

"It's over," she said, "you're safe." She knew the difference between checking and looking. And I wasn't looking, because I knew.

"I don't feel safe." Which was funny. I mean, you'd think that sitting surrounded by my closest friends and my family, not to mention a dozen unrelated—to me at least—CIA agents and five people from MI6 that would make me feel safe. It made no sense that I'd last felt safe two hours, sixteen minutes and fifty-three seconds ago while fighting for my life. I could close my eyes (which I did, despite my better judgment) and see the moment and I remembered feeling safe. And it was SO wrong that by recalling that moment I could feel safe all over again, because I knew that when I opened my eyes (which I did) the Zach I was seeing was all in my head.

Zach saw me.

Zach knew me.

Zach loved me anyways.

If you had asked me a year ago if I knew Zach Goode, I would have laughed in your face. But as this school year headed towards the final exams I had already passed it was different story.

"Oh my gosh." Macey's voice came from behind me. I turned to look at her, she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes were staring at someone beyond. "Cammie…" I didn't want to look, but I did anyways.

And that's when I knew.

Zach was alive.

Had the wet, bedraggled boy shuffling along behind an equally wet (though a little less bedraggled) Joe Solomon been a product of being hit on the head yet again he would have been smirking, his eyes would have been had that mischievous glint and he would have had a bit more swagger in his step. This one stopped, his eyes on me, his hands in his pockets, looking like he thought he might get eaten alive. His eyes met mine and I realized that he was terrified. Not of CIA or MI6 or the Circle. He was afraid of me.

Because I saw Zach.

I knew Zach.

And I loved him anyways. (But he didn't know that, because I had never had the guts to tell him.)

Words rang in my ears. _No, I couldn't. I couldn't lose the one person who didn't see _her_ when they looked at me. _What had my face been telling him in the last half minute that could have made him so afraid that that's who I saw now?

I ran. My arm might have been in a sling and maybe my knee hurt more than a little, but the crushing, crippling weight that had been holding me in place was gone. No one tried to stop me.

Zach was alive. He was whole and unhurt (well, not counting the bloody spot in his sleeve where bullet number three had grazed him) and looking completely confused—for once.

He obviously wasn't expecting to have a Gallagher Girl slam into him at top speed and throw her arms around his neck. (Though he was probably prepared for something involving a my right hook and believe me, I considered a good sock to his jaw for scaring me like that.)

"Ow, Gallagher Girl. Fibs' vest may be good, but it doesn't keep you from getting some serious bruises." He pulled away and stuck his finger through one of the holes in his shirt. Beneath it I could see the bulletproof mesh that I hadn't know was in the prototype phase.

"Wish he'd loaned me one of those too," I grumbled, nodding towards my arm. Zach stepped away like he'd been burned. The walls were still there in his eyes.

"Cammie, I'm so…" He reached out, but his hand stopped, just inches from me. Like there was a bubble around me that he couldn't break. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay." And I believed it.

"Gallagher Girl, my mom _shot_ you. What about that is okay?"

I reached out and took his hand. "She shot you too."

"Cam, I—"

"No, Zach, listen to me. Don't talk—listen." I waited, making sure he would. He nodded. There was fear in his eyes. "You keep saying that you're the one who doesn't have anything left to lose. I think you're wrong. But you are right about one thing—I have a lot to lose. I have parents who love me. Friends who'll always be there. And I have you." I moved my hand, placing it on his chest where the second bullet hole was—right above his heart. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You're not thinking straight, Gallagher Girl." He didn't pull away, but he wasn't coming any closer either.

"Actually, I think I am."

"No you're not. I know you, Cammie. My mom tried to single-handedly ruin your life. And maybe right now everything seems great, cause yeah, you got your dad back and all your friends are alive, but give it time Cammie. Give yourself time to think about it and you'll be going over every word, every action. You'll analyze and compare because deep down you can't trust me. There's no way you could trust me after everything—" I'll admit it, I play dirty. Zach was rambling on and on and every time I tried to interrupt, he'd just keep going. So I did what any self-respecting girl under the scrutiny of the CIA, MI6 and her friends and parents would do.

I kissed him.

"You are not your mother," I said.

"Gallagher Girl—"

"I see you, Zach. Not her. I see _you_," I said. I brought my hand to the side of his face, bringing him closer. His wet hair pressed against my forehead. Between the body slam and the kiss, I was pretty close to soaking now too. And it was chilly. And my knee hurt. (My shoulder was beyond 'hurt' at this point.) But I couldn't stop now. Because I knew if he didn't want me to find him, I would never find him. And that was one thing I couldn't live with. I wanted him to stay. _I see you. I know you._ "I love you." The look on his face was worth every frustrating conversation and all the times that he'd known things I didn't. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped (yes, actually jaw _droppage_—from Zach!). He quickly closed his mouth again, trying to figure out what to say. But, how he could come back against that? Really, there was only one thing for him to say.

So I kissed him again. And this time he kissed me back.

"I love you too, Gallagher Girl," he said.

I knew that as soon as we pulled apart and faced our audience, things were going to get very, _very_ awkward. But I didn't care. We were warm. We were alive. And that was enough.

"Sounds to me like you do have something to lose after all."

"Good thing I never lose then," he replied. And then he dipped me. And he kissed me.

And this time I didn't care that most of my classmates (don't even mention my parents) were watching.

I wanted them to know that Zach Goode was mine.

* * *

Guess who just finished reading _Only the Good Spy Young_...I did! That's who. Okay, so maybe it was my second read through in two weeks, but that's beside the point (I did have to make so I've read all the books an equal number of times).

Anyways, I tried to do the math on how long her dad's been gone, but LYKY and Cross My Heart are back in Florida and I happen to be in Hawaii at the moment. (I know, don't ya'll feel lucky) If you come up with different numbers, lemme know.

Otherwise, thank you for reading...now review ;D. I think I got pretty spot on, but there is always room for improvement.

**8/8** Okay...ya'll win. I was reading over this just making a few changes I'd forgotten to make (and fixing some erroneous grammar I managed to miss) and guess who started talking. That's right, Zach did. So, I'm going to do the a chap from his POV. I'm giving it a day to sit so I can fix a couple of things, but it should be up by Tuesday.


	2. Zach

You would think I would get used to Cammie knocking me off my feet without physical contact. First day I met her: I'd barely talked to her, knew next to nothing about her (except that trying to tail her is like trying to follow a street kid in the slums of Buenos Aires), but I'll never forget how with just two words she'd nearly knocked my knees out from under me. "Blackthorne Boy." _Damn_, I'd thought, _she's good_. I knew then either I worked my butt off to stay one step ahead of her or she would leave me in the dust.

I've gotten used to getting blown up, shot at, thrown on the ground, and trapped in tight spaces. But Cammie Morgan—I don't think I'll ever get used to her power over me.

I don't remember falling very well. I remember the look on my mother's face. The impacts on my chest, the sting in my arm and Cammie screaming as I teetered backwards. I think she tried to grab me, because I remember her hand sliding over mine as I fell. And then I remember the sound of a distant gunshot as I hit the water. Next thing I knew, Joe was pumping water out of my lungs half a mile downstream. Not a fun experience if you've just been shot in the chest.

"Think you can you walk?" he asked as I coughed up the rest of the water. Still gathering my thoughts, I nodded. Walking, sure that was doable—breathing, I was still working on that. My internal clock told me I'd been out for at least an hour. My brain must have been water logged, because it took me several minutes to recall how I'd ended up half a mile downstream from where I should have been.

"Cammie! Is she alright? Did she do it?" I moved too fast and pain shot across my ribs and chest. Thanks to Dr. Fibs, I wasn't dead, but I was pretty close to wishing it. I'll have to remember to tell him to work on the vest's impact absorption.

"She did it. She's not much better off than you, but she's okay," he replied, hauling me to my feet. Good. Cammie was okay. I wanted to ask if she'd asked about me. Did she think I was dead? Was she worried? Had they had to tie her down to keep from searching for me? But after everything that happened, I wasn't sure. I still remember that look, the way she'd pulled away from me like it burned when she found out that my mom was the same person from the roof in Boston. She handled every subsequent revelation about my past much better, but Cammie was good at hiding things when she put her mind to it.

It took us just under an hour to hike back upstream. Would've taken less time, but I had to compromise between speed and breathing. I was pretty sure I'd come up with a cracked rib or two. Nothing felt broken, which was good. Because whether or not she was mad at me, I'm pretty sure Cam wouldn't have appreciated me dying at her feet. It had been two hours and fourteen minutes since I'd seen her. Give or take a few seconds.

As mentioned before, I'm well-prepared for a variety of situations. (Especially those involving the dishing out bodily harm. Or avoiding it.) But I never know what Gallagher Girl is going to throw at me on a good day. I usually manage to fake it through most situations, but that still doesn't mean I like it. So I observed before I entered the clearing. Took stock of my surroundings, might as well take stock of the predictable variables. Like Liz getting stitches and Bex where she always is. With Cammie.

I found that I couldn't breathe for an entirely different reason.

She was sitting on a pile of rubble that had blasted free from what had been the underground (literally) Circle stronghold. Her mom and dad weren't far, right next to her in fact. Her family was complete. An icepack had been ace-bandaged to her knee. And her arm was hanging in a blue sling. She didn't appear to have gotten a second concussion. But she closed her eyes like her head hurt.

"You gonna just stand there?" Joe asked as he came up behind me. I looked at him blankly. "Stay here is you want but I'm going in."

I took a deep (well, sort of deep) breath and stepped out from behind the tree. I was ready for just about everything from joy to sadness to frustration to excitement. Even anger or hatred. Maybe all at once. What I wasn't ready for was a nothing. Macey registered more of a reaction than Cammie did. She just stared at me, like I wasn't there. Suddenly I wished I knew what had happened between her and my mom in the end. Was that—was that who she saw now. Now that she knew all but my deepest secret (the one that scared me more than all the others combined), did she see me? Or did she see the person my mother had tried to raise? The person she _had_ raised till I got to Blackthorne and met Joe and learned that my parents weren't the heroes I thought they were. Had I lost Cammie?

"Oh my gosh," Macey said. Cammie looked back at her, confused. Bex looked like she wished she had a bowl of popcorn and a plush, high-backed theater seat. "Cammie…" Macey broke off, waiting to see what happened as Cam turned back around.

She was running at me before I had time to figure out what she was thinking. Part of me wanted to run too—in the other direction, because I've seen what a Gallagher Girl can do with a flying side kick and I was pretty sure it was either that or her right hook. Not that she needed to, I would have surrendered without a fight. I was one of the good guys…Wasn't I?

I stood my ground. Ready for anything—I thought.

I was not prepared for a hundred and ten pounds of girl spy slamming into me. I have never known so much pain and joy at the same time. She knocked the breath out of me, sent pain searing across my torso…but she was alive. And okay enough to run into me full force, even if she did have a slight limp. Somehow I managed to keep her from sending us both into the ground.

"Ow, Gallagher Girl," I gasped. "Fibs' vest may be good, but it doesn't keep you from getting some serious bruises." I stuck a finger through a bullet hole to demonstrate. Her eyebrows scrunched together, and then she nodded. He must have kept that one from her. Or maybe she just wasn't around for that one. Probably off doing something stupid and dangerous.

"Wish he'd loaned me one of those too," she muttered. She jerked her chin down at the arm that was in the sling. It took six seconds for my brain to put the pieces together. The gunshot I'd heard as I fell…I stepped away, as I realized what must have happened.

"Cammie, I'm so…" I wanted to hold her, to tell her I was never going to let anyone else hurt her. That I would keep her safe. But I hadn't…so how could I say that now? After everything, I didn't have the right too. I'd already failed too many times. If I'd really meant to keep her safe she never would have gotten hurt at all. She never would have gotten…shot. My throat closed up, I was barely able to finish, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she said. Like it didn't matter.

"Gallagher Girl, my mom _shot_ you. What about that is okay?"

Her hand reached out and grabbed mine. "She shot you too." I wanted to pull away, but she was holding so tight I was afraid to hurt her.

"Cam, I—"

"No, Zach, listen to me. Don't talk—listen." Sometimes I hate how good her memory is. She probably has every conversation we've ever had memorized verbatim. I might have refused, but she had fixed me with the Gallagher Glare. Smart people don't ignore the Gallagher Glare unless it's really important—or they're me on a normal day. (Or at least what passes for normal in our world.) Because normally, I could take her, but not today. "You keep saying that you're the one who doesn't have anything to lose. I think you're wrong." Just pointing out that I am rarely wrong, especially when it comes to Cammie. "But you are right about one thing—I have a lot to lose. I have parents who love me. Friends who'll always be there. And I have you." She let go of my hand and placed hers on my chest. Like she was feeling for a heartbeat, to make sure I was still there. It wouldn't have been very reassuring. I'm pretty sure my heart had stopped at that point. "I almost lost you." And just like that it took off, beating so fast I was sure she could feel it. She'd introduced hope. A dangerous thing for a spy—something we often push away till it's too late. Because hope screws with reality sometimes, it makes you see and hear things that aren't really there.

"You're not thinking straight Gallagher Girl."

"Actually, I think I am."

"No you're not. I know you, Cammie. My mom tried to single-handedly ruin your life. And maybe right now everything seems great , cause yeah, you got your dad back and all your friends are alive, but give it time to sink in Cammie. Give yourself time to think about it and you'll be going over every word, every action." Again with her and her memory. She was never going to be able to forget. What could be strong enough to make her want to be with the guy whose mom had tried to kill her? "You'll analyze and compare because deep down you know you can't trust me. There's no way you could trust me after everything—" Cammie does not play fair. Arguing with a guy who is trapped in a collapsible bunk with you? Not fair, especially when he's just trying to protect you. Likewise, grabbing a guy by his shirt collar and kissing him while he is trying to make a point? Also NOT fair. Because the only thing he's thinking about then is the fact you're kissing him. I'll admit it—I love it when she plays dirty.

"You are not your mother," she said before I had time for a decent reaction. (Not however, before I had become very aware of her parents. I'm not sure which scared me more—her mom or her dad.)

"Gallagher Girl—" I'm not sure what I going to say. In under two minutes, Cam had managed to stop my heart, restart it and then stop it again. _You are not your mother_. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. But mostly, I just wanted her to say that again. I wanted to make sure she saw what no else had bothered to see.

"I see you, Zach. Not her. I see _you_." Her thumb ran over the stubble on my jaw as she pulled me closer. That close it was hard to focus, but I could see it in her eyes. Like she was about to tell me something that was hidden so deep inside her, she was afraid to let it out. She shivered, and not in a good way, but I knew she wouldn't move until she'd said what she had to say. I never saw it coming. "I love you." I'm not exactly sure what my face did then, but I could tell she was quite pleased to have our normal position reversed. And honestly, there's only one way someone can respond to something like that (well, there's more than one for some people, but not for me). If she had the courage to lay it all out there, it was only fair for me to tell her what I'd been fighting to say for months.

When she kissed me this time, I was ready for it. She kissed me like we had the rest of our lives together, and I was pretty sure I communicated that I liked that idea, but just in case…

"I love you too, Gallagher Girl."

I held on to her. Well aware that I probably needed to go get my ribs wrapped up and that I was getting the Gallagher Glare from yet another Morgan woman. But I didn't care at the moment, I just wanted another minute of her. One last moment before things got crazy again.

"Sounds to me like you do have something to lose after all." Typical Cammie, had to get the last word. Things is she was right—I _was_ wrong. But of course, I couldn't let her get away with being right for long.

"Good thing I never lose then," I said, spinning her so that she was looking at the sky. I kissed her quickly, fully aware of her parents and Liz and Macey and Bex and the rest of her senior class. But I wanted them to know, I was hers and she was mine and they'd better get used to it.

* * *

There ya go, as requested...Zach's POV. And I believe that's it for this story, cause I have absolutely no idea what happens before this (except what's mentioned in the story...so I guess really I have no idea what happens before Zach gets shot). I wish I was Ally Carter. Mine own stories don't drive me nearly this crazy (unless I'm working on them and then they do, for different reasons). Anyways, until we know what happens next this is the story I'm sticking to ;D


End file.
